I'm Ckasel! I'm gonna write and no one can stop me! requests are open! erikakensuke is my main blog, so if you see a response by that blog, it is me! icon's picrew: https://picrew.me/image_maker/400146
Pokemon (Gym Leaders, NPCs, Team peeps, or maybe even a pokemon themself.)
Marvel
DC
BlazBlue
Homestuck
Bleach
Persona (4 or 5)
Blue Exorcist
D. Grayman
Miraculous Ladybug
Black Clover
Mass Effect
Jujutsu Kaisen
FNAF (security breach preferred?)
School Rumble
Outlaw Star
Trigun (any continuity, any character)
South Park
Durarara
Ranma 1/2
Note: because my blog is still just starting, if you have an idea for a show I haven't seen yet, Im willing to give anything a try! This list also does not reflect all of the media I could possibly write for. Im a lifelong nerd, and have seen well over 160 anime, and played so many video games. Hit me up!
I am also willing for crossover fics/headcanons as well!
I am extremely hesitant to do fics from Live Action media, and I WILL NOT do fics of real people. Youtubers, actors, etc. None of that.
In the smut category, I do not write about Pregnancy, Breeding Kinks, or A/B/O.
If a request is given in a category I haven't previously stated I won't do, but feel uncomfortable doing it, I'll honor it if I can find a way to comfortably write it, but after that one (1), I will add it to the do not ask list, and it can no longer be requested.
Accidents happen, and I can't grow as a writer if I don't figure out what I don't like to write. So, much like a misplaced sale sign in a Target, I'll honor the sale, then quickly pull it down before anyone else can Karen their way into it xD
Most of my stuff is usually cross posted to ao3, so if you like that format for reading better, you can find me under Ckasel_Graves!
Vash was a stranger to intimacy. For a man who had a whole introduction and motto about "chasing the elusive mayfly known as love for many many moons now", never once had he so much as stolen a kiss.
But with your help, someone who swept him off his unsuspecting feet, he's learned a thing or two. Like how much you liked it when he held your hand, or how much you loved when he kissed you deeply, or how much you adored it when he used his fingers.
"C'mon, mayfly, please don't hide your noises, y'know I like them," He whined shyly, flushed a bright pink while he played with your clit, slick dripping off his knuckles and down onto the sheets while you writhed.
He was just so good with them. Of course the gunman was, but how someone so inexperienced could have you cumming in minutes, navigating your folds and pushing on the soft-spot that had you curling with his fingers, desperately gripping anything you could get your scrambling hands on while you cried.
"Hey, sh-should I add another finger? You're gettin' real tight, I'd hate to make you wait any longer..." He was so cute above you, all bashful and embarrassed, as if you weren't half-delirious and bucking wildly into his hand. Which soothed you over with grinding the heal of his palm into your clit, slowly sliding another digit into the tight warmth of your drooling pussy, watching with bated breath how you practically sucked him in.
"Woah..." He was entranced— completely encapsulated by the sight of your folds mushed around his knuckles and the thick ring of white smeared along the base of his fingers. The sound of your sweet moans and your squelching cunt. The feeling of you clamping and fluttering so tightly while your hands reached up to tug at his hair for a kiss. The way you smelled, all sweet and sweaty and like a home he never knew before you, air so thick with arousal and sex he had to scrunch his nose and inhale another whiff.
You were cumming in seconds when the sound of his soft moan hit your ears, ever so gently placing his lips on yours and closing those enchanting baby-blue eyes, keeping his prosthetic arm propped up beside your cotton-stuffed little head. He didn't want the cold metal anywhere near your bare flesh; not yet, at least.
"There you go, mayfly, are you cummin'?" He asked gently, boyish voice so soft and quiet against your lips, feeling how you clamped around him and shuddered in ecstasy. "Just a little longer, okay? I don't really know what I'm doin', but you liked it last time when I curled my fingers like thiiis-"
"Oh!" He was a little surprised when you cried out louder and threw your head back, mouth agape and drooling as you babbled out encouragements and praise, almost stunned when the stars behind your eyelids doubled in numbers when he pressed on the new spot.
"Well, a-alright, mayfly," He stuttered lightly in response to your pleasure, unsure of what to say and blinking in awe and embarrassment at how pretty you were, drunk on his bumbling, unskilled, long fingers. "I wanna make you feel good, so..."
The way he leaned down and buried his face in your neck almost made you pause, worried for your beloved boyfriend despite how utterly out of it you felt, completely detached from reality as his voice rang loudly in your mind.
"I know you just finished, but... can we do it again? I really like it."
Hello! I wonder if you could write a sequel to Bad Omen but with Vash or Milly and Meryl meeting reader after Fifth Moon event.
Please and thank you
A/N: Absolutely! I'm so sorry it took literally all year to write this! I've been in a weird place, so writing hasn't happened much in general; and quite frankly I hate not writing. There's nothing worse than not writing. Anyways, Enjoy!
Bad Moon
Chapter 2: The Bigger Picture
A year and a half went by, and yet each night I stared up at the fifth moon, the giant crater in it. I could feel the phantom pains of my arm aching whenever I looked at it, grounding me to reality. Even as I ran the memories through my mind like a movie, I couldn't help it. The man… that calm before the storm… the brother of The Stampede… The Stampede that hadn't been heard from since that, now second, infamous day.
In a town to the far south, I was working in yet another restaurant. Despite my prosthetic arm and bum knee, I had really begun to enjoy talking with the locals, and being so sweet to them that they showered me with tips. Sometimes. It was during one of my shifts that I saw a familiar face. The two ladies who had been with The Stampede as they had entered Augusta. I was relieved to see what they had survived, but the short one looked absolutely livid at the sight of me. I gasped as she charged at me, and I hardly had time to scramble away before she was interrogating me as if I had messed up her order and she wanted to speak to my manager.
“It's you! You were leaving Augusta that day! How did you know he would be there? Who do you work for?!” She yelled in the restaurant, causing a scene. I put my hands up in surrender as she held my shirt collar.
“I don't work for anyone! I… I just…” I tried to speak up as she continued to beg and berrate me for answers, and I didn't notice her tears until her grip on my shirt faltered. I paused, looking at her with sadness. She… she loved The Stampede… the man who was now missing. I looked to the woman’s friend, the tall girl who had ordered the pudding and Ceylon tea.
“Meryl… it's not their fault…” the big girl said softly, as if this wasn't the first time the short one had lashed out since the Typhoon’s disappearance.
“Yeah, Milly, but…” Meryl sighed, looking into my eyes. It was clear she still wanted answers. I gave a sigh, and steadied myself as I asked them to wait. I told my boss I was taking break, as there was a lull in my customers, and I sat down with them, a dessert snack in my hands.
I told them everything I knew. July, my injuries, the strange man who was The Stampede’s brother, the cities he had destroyed, and the conversation I had with him the day that Augusta was destroyed. They listened in horror for most of it, the bigger girl’s eyes pitying me, and my lonely life. She looked as if she came from a big family. The other girl, Meryl, she still looked heartbroken to know the beloved Stampede was presumed dead.
“I… I saw him… Vash the Stampede… he's a friend of ours… he and his brother… they're not human. I was… terrified to see him that way…” she seemed to be regaling mostly to herself. I had known by the brother’s words that he and Vash weren't human. I began to wonder what she saw that day while I had scurried into the sands, but I didn't pry.
“I'm sorry.” I said gently. I had nothing else to offer her except my condolences and my inability to stop this war between these inhuman storms. I offered my name, and an exchange of addresses we could be reached by. If we saw Vash, or Mr. Wolfwood, the priest in black, we could give each other updates.
—
It was another two months since I had seen the Insurance Girls when I saw the man in black. I approached him gently, and introduced myself. He was a kind man, and had such tired eyes. He seemed unfazed by the fact I had met the brother of the Stampede. He seemed to know more about the brother than I did.
“His name is Knives Millions. And if you value your life you’ll keep doing what you have been and run the second you see him.” He said with an edge to his voice that showed an unmistaken kindness. I nodded, heeding his words. When I asked if Vash was alive, Wolfwood shrugged, and said he didn't know, but the look in his eyes was practically begging to say yes. He was alive out there somewhere, and Wolfwood was still looking. He left town later that evening and I believed that to be the end of it. I was wrong of course.
A week later I found myself with a customer of absolute beauty. Her hair was long and blonde, she appeared to be able to kill a man just by glancing his way. She asked for my name, and next I knew I felt a prick in my neck and I was out.
I awoke in a chamber atop a rather comfortable chaise lounge. Sitting across from me, a delicate wine glass in his hand, was Knives Millions. The gaze of a wrathful God was upon his face as he analyzed my visage with general disdain once more.
A/N: Haha! I'm alive, I swear! Have this thing I made!
Bad Omen
Millions Knives x Reader (not romantic, but could in in sequels, idk yet)
(TriMax/98 adjacent, not biblically accurate)
I don't think I remember much from the destruction of July. I couldn't have been more than 3 of 4 at the time; That's hardly a time most people have memories of. I don't remember the face of my parents, what their voices sound like, though I still think I hear it on the wind of those chilly desert nights. That's not my point, though.
The earliest memory I have is of a man who I don't know, and have seen a few times since. He was a tall blond man, his face was so serene… yet there was a fury behind it. I can never remember where I was, or what I was doing, but I remember his lean figure that I spotted underneath his tan cloak, he had clothes unlike I'd ever seen before. White, skin tight, and the boots seemed to go all the way up from what I could see. My eyes were wide at the sheer power that seemed to flow off of him… and I watched as he walked away. That's the whole memory.
I'm not sure how I survived the blast that seemed to take over the entire town. I lost my right arm from the elbow down, and I still have knee problems from the brick wall that nearly crushed me. As I recovered in a nearby hospital, not really knowing how I got there, I couldn't help but make myself remember that man. That strange blond man… When the officers came by, asking about a blond man in a long coat, I said that I'd seen him. When they showed me a picture, though, the hair was all wrong, the face was all happy and goofy. That wasn't the guy I saw.
When I tried to explain to them that this wasn't the guy, they didn't take the word of a toddler. No surprise, honestly. They said this man was called Vash the Stampede, but I knew, in my heart, that that wasn't the name of the man I saw that day. The man who had full intentions of ending the city of July that day.
These days I can't help but keep an eye out for him. Vash or the mystery man. Why had The Stampede been in the same place as the other on that day? Did the man I saw have something to do with it? I felt it in my bones that he did… The man of my memories had gone to meet The Stampede… it's just part of the fury I distinctly remembered… His gaze both haunts me and motivates me. I feel like I have to find him, I thought, shortly after my ninth birthday.
When I was ten, I ran away from the orphanage. I had done all I could to stock up on a couple of canteens of water, plenty of snacks, and I even managed to swipe an old pocket knife from one of the people who worked there.
From there, I found a home wherever someone would take pity on me. My first home taught me how to shoot a gun, gifting me a small pistol, and he taught me the importance of only taking a life when it was absolutely necessary. After the man died trying to quell a bar fight, I moved on to the next town. I lived with a woman who’d lost her son within the past few years, but I quickly grew tired of her coddling, so I packed my bag and left before I turned 13. It was about that time, when I saw something incredible. I had been making a little money cleaning tables in a restaurant of some town when I saw him. The guy. The guy I had seen all those years ago. He hadn't aged a day, and still walked with that serene bloodlust.
If it weren't for the fact that my entire body was frozen in place, I would have run after him. It was so odd. I didn't fear him, I guess, but… something in his walk was telling my instincts that I should not be near him. Once he was out of sight, I fell over, taking the small pile of dishes I'd been carrying with me. It's okay I had been fired that day because… well that town didnt exist by the time my next shift would have started. I saw a second blond man who wore a long red coat, the one from the wanted posters, The Stampede. I had been on my way out of town when I saw him, and I had a strange feeling that with those two in the same vicinity, the town wouldn't last much longer.
Another few years passed, and most people didn't believe my story. A blond man that wasn't the Stampede, bringing death and destruction in his wake. Even with my lost arm, and birthplace of Lost July, no one believed a 15 year old kid. Even those I stayed with hardly believed me.
It had been about 25 years since my hometown was destroyed when I saw the man next. I was making my way through another town, doing some work for a local mover. What did he move? None of your business.
It took every ounce of energy I had to get myself to move my own feet as I felt the familiar paralysis of his presence. I ran in his direction, being careful to approach.
“H-Hey!” I said as nonthreateningly as I could, not wanting to spook, who I believed to be, the real typhoon. The calm before the storm, maybe. He stopped walking, and turned to look at me. The amount of disdain in his eyes, as if I was nothing more than a worm in his presence… It was terrifying.
“What do you want?” He asked curtly, but I could hear his annoyance.
“I… I r-remember you…” I managed to stammer out, “F-From July…” I did my best to explain, but he was… even scarier up close than from a distance. He glanced me over, noticing my prosthetic arm, and a ghost of a smile shadowed across his face, as if revisiting a memory, or an old friend.
“I see… a little pest like you has survived this long… astounding…” he whispered. A long pause stretched between us. Who was this man? Why was he here?
“Every time I see you… the town gets destroyed… will that be… the case this time?” I was still petrified to speak to him. His eyes burned into mine despite its cool color.
“Perhaps.” He spoke bluntly.
“And… Vash the Stampede… did he really destroy July? Or was it you?” I managed to ask the question that had been burning in my brain for a quarter of a century.
“It was him, indeed… he just…needed a little coaxing to destroy those pests…” his voice was like Bourbon, and yet the malice he held towards these pests, who I expected was humanity, was more than just an aftertaste. If he hated humanity this badly… was he human himself, or something else? Was the Humanoid Typhoon only Humanoid as well?
“I… I see…” my eyes lowered to the ground. I kind of wanted him to be the one who destroyed my home, casting me into this life of wandering the sands, and phantom pains of memories I no longer own, “Do you… cause him to destroy?” I asked, wondering if he was merely the eye of the storm I had also theorized, the bad omen of destruction that no one noticed pass by them before The Stampede left a city in rubble.
“I do whatever I can to make him see how useless it all is… so he can finally stop resisting me, and rule this planet alongside me, in an Eden not meant for likes of you.” He said curtly. I got the feeling he was becoming… impressed, with how much I was able to fathom speaking with him. I could tell he was getting bored with our conversation, and he was beginning to walk away without so much as a goodbye.
“Who is The Stampede to you?” I managed to blurt out without thinking. I’d never met The Stampede before, but I needed to know how the two coincide together.
“He's my brother.” The man continued walking, as if he had somewhere to be… as if the show was about to begin.
I booked it out of that town, trying my best not to run through the sand, as it would only slow my pace with its inconsistent traction.
The Stampede passed by, this time, a few people with him. A man in black with a large cross, and two ladies, one short one tall. I had to say something. Anything to tell him. That his brother was there. I wracked my brain as I saw them approach, and I finally managed to say something as I passed, still eager to get as far away from Augusta as I could.
“It's a bad day for a family reunion, Sir.” I glanced up to the orange spectacles of The Stampede. His gaze grew dark, as if my message had gotten through.
Once night had fallen, I saw a massive light in the sky, and I saw it hit the fifth Moon, casting a giant crater in it. The phantom pain in my arm told me all I needed to know. Augusta was no more.
A/N: I'm not dead, I swear, I've just been flopping around like a dropped Croissant.
No Man's Land/Gunsmoke is a planet with Two Suns and Five moons.
The nights there are still well lit, despite the lack of light. Moonlight bathes across the sands, sparkling red and green auroras across the sands as worms move just underneath.
It's these things, you think, that might be one thing that makes some members of the Trigun House miss about their home planet, their home dimension.
The Saverem Twins, from nearly all iterations, don't mind gazing into the void of space from the roof or the grassy yard, seeing the multitude of stars that are differently arranged from their own planet. They enjoy stargazing, and find it a way to have heart to heart talks, with only the vast number of stars and systems bearing witness. Not that the universe cares.
They don't mind because they were born in space. For the Vashes, they get to think about Rem, and the happy times they had. For the Knives, they get to be reminded when things weren't so complicated, when things were happier. It makes you want to find an anti gravity chamber. Maybe the Saverem Twins would truly relax, being back in the weightlessness of space.
For the Wolfwoods, Livio, Razlo, and Legato, they've never been without the spare moons in the sky. They fear the nights of the new moon, or overcast nights where the clouds make the world as black as the back of a dead man's eyelids... Not that they'd ever admit to it. Hell, you figure that's why Meryl stays in Seattle. All of the lights illuminating the town probably comforts her.
There's an old saying. "When you gaze into that abyss, it gazes back, and it tells you what you are made of." It must be that, and the instinctual fear of what hides in the darkness that does scare them.
You subtly introduced ambient lighting to them. String lights, electronic fire places, night lights, moon lamps, and more. Every bedroom in the Trigun house has them, even the Saverem Twins.
okay still hyperfixating on trigun/tristamp so have this:
for modern au trigun, i think a cool way to incorporate rem dying, vash losing his arm (to nai cutting it off), and nai causing all the chaos that leads to everything- as a car accident. essentially nai did something that caused rem to crash the car, it flips, rem dies, vash’s arm gets stuck under something (idk enough about car accidents) and the cars leaking oil so about to blow up and nai needs to cut vash’s arm to get him out.
i think making it be that maybe rem was a wildlife conservationist and was transporting some animals/plants in a trailer attached to their truck and they all die when the car blows up
and/or
their car accident caused a pile up that killed a lot of people
i think both could give vash the right amount of angst and survivor guilt needed to flesh out his character in a modern au
do with this whatever you want, preferably someone make this a fic and tag me in it so i can read it, but have fun with my shitty contribution to the fandom 🥰
Vash is a classic beer and stright spirits kinds person where as wolfwood prefers the "girly" cocktails but get embarrassed ordering them so vash does it for him
After his brother Nicholas (not biological, but still a brother) got turned into a werewolf, L/R spent their life trying to create an immortality potion to stay by his brother's side forever.
But it's had terrible consequences.
Making them look ten years older, and causing the two to be unable to co-host like they used to, Razlo went insane and went on quite the mad scientist rampage.
Wolfwood finally managed to bring them out of it, letting the two headmates to coexist once more.
Nowadays, LR is known a a pharmacist for the various cryptids of the area, his apothecary known in both the human and cryptid worlds as the finest remedies in the area.
I... I have more cryptid au if anyone wants to hear it...
Okay, so I cheated a tiny bit. Its technically about @aidakhar 's dad!Knives au. But how can I resist Knives being a doting father?
***
"Azrael, that's the third Toothbrush this month." Knives frowned as he looked at the small disgruntled boy who presented him with yet another mangled toothbrush.
"My teeth are just too sharp, Papa." Azrael moped.
"I see that. I'll have to talk to Dr. Conrad about this…" Knives mused to himself, as he comforted his son, "For now, why don't we just keep doing our best until we can figure something out, okay? It's not very efficient as far as the lifespans of toothbrushes go, but it'll keep your teeth clean in the meantime."
"Fine." Azrael huffed as he stalked off, going to his room. Knives was frustrated as well. It was important to maintain oral cleanliness. How was his child supposed to do so when his teeth were ripping through each toothbrush at such a rapid pace? He pondered these things as he too stalked down the hall towards Dr. Conrad's lab.
"Ah, Master Knives. What brings you around this time?" Conrad asked, sitting at his desk, a beaker of coffee still steaming close by.
"Azrael just gave me his third decimated toothbrush this month. I need something different than this archaic stick." Knives complained to Conrad.
"Well, the evolution of the toothbrush hasn't really changed since the Earth's 1800's… they even used them in the ancient Egyptian era. It's one of those "If it's not broke, don't fix it" kinds of things." Conrad explained.
"Then we have to make something those stupid humans couldn't." Knives snidely replied.
"Of course, Sir. When I was a child back on Earth, they did have these chewable toothbrushes, but I fear the boy will just chew through them."
"What were they made of? Could we improve upon whatever material they used? Make them reusable, or recyclable?"
"They were just silicone, but, again, I fear he would just rip through Silicone like a shark eating a seal." Conrad lamented, taking a sip from his beaker of coffee, "I could improve it to withstand the psi of his bite strength strength. I can probably project 170 psi at the most, so I can make a silicone that withstands up to 200… Can you bring The Boy in to run some tests? He might enjoy it, since he'll get to bite stuff." Conrad began to write calculations and equations down on a piece of paper before asking the question.
"Yeah, I can bring him around, but… in the morning. He needs his sleep." Knives said, noting the time. Conrad chuckled, realizing what a doting father his fearsome boss had become. It made Conrad miss the daughter he'd wronged so long ago as he sipped his coffee once more.
"Of course, Sir. That will give me time to experiment with the silicone before I can run my tests for the prototype. This is a welcome distraction. I was beginning to feel burnt out on my previous experiments." Conrad shrugged.
"Wonderful. I know you won't disappoint us, Doctor. I shall return with Azrael in the morning." Knives nodded before leaving Conrad to his work.
***
When Knives and Azrael returned the next morning, Conrad was still hard at work.
"What is your progress, Doctor?" Knives asked as He reminded Azrael to be mindful of his surroundings, as not to collide with anything within the lab.
"Ah, Master Knives. You're just in time. I just finished with the silicone that can withstand 200 psi. I still want an average bite test from him. I may be able to adjust the longevity of the silicone, and we'll be able to recycle them, combine them together to make new ones. Silicone is surprisingly easy to make on this planet, since silicone is made from sillica particles in sand. We live on a planet covered in the stuff!" Conrad said triumphantly, pulling a lever for dramatic affect as a compression machine squished a rubbery piece of silicone. A little machine attached to it beeped, calculating the integrity of the small marble, and the he lifted the lever, to show the marble still intact. Conrad took the marble to a nearby sink, washing it thoroughly, before handing it to Azrael.
"Here, chew on this for me. Please do not swallow it." Conrad instructed. Azrael paused before taking the little marble from Conrad's hand, and popping it into his mouth. He munched on it, his eyes brightening a little at the bouncy resistance the marble gave.
"Should I try to rip it apart with my teeth?" Azrael asked as he chewed.
"Give it your best shot, kid." Conrad nodded, giving Azrael permission to destroy his prototype in the name of science. After a minute or two, Azrael spit the ball back into Conrad's gloved hand. Conrad gave the silicone ball study under the microscope, investigating the small tears made by Azrael's teeth.
"Was it hard to chew on, Azrael?" Conrad asked as he gazed into the microscope.
"Not really. It was like… chewing gum." Azrael explained. Conrad nodded, standing from the microscope.
"Okay. I figured Independants had a harder bite force than humans, but I didn't expect harder than 200 psi, damn. Good thing Silicone can go up to 1,500 psi when using the right formula." Conrad sighed. "My goal is to create a silicone that won't tear under his bite force, but is still easy to chew on." Conrad explained. He picked up a small device that had a rubber mouthpiece attached. After sterilizing the piece, he asked Azrael to place it in his mouth, and bite down as hard as he could. Conrad frowned at the results.
"Hm, 220. Yep, gotta make a stronger silicone. Alright, I should have the prototype ready by tomorrow morning." Conrad concluded, writing some notes. Knives and Azrael went about their day as normal.
***
"Okay, I think I've got it this time. Try this one." Conrad handed Azrael a small ball with little silicone bristles, sterilized of course. The middle was hollow for toothpaste to fit inside. Azrael chewed on the ball, purposefully trying to mangle it with his teeth. After a few minutes, he spit the ball out as before, and after a study by Conrad, the item was complete.
"Yeah, this new chewable toothbrush should last you two months, or about sixty teeth cleanings. I'll have more made, and ready to go within the week. They're easy to recycle, so I'll be able to make a sustainable stock of them." Conrad was nearly giddy at his success, "I recommend using this with supervision due to the potential choking hazard, but that's just a precaution." He noted to Knives, from one father to another.
"I'll be sure to do so. We can brush our teeth together, then." Knives nodded, internally excited to have a new style of cleaning for his son.
Trigun Poster Fan Art Contest - With a Small Prize!
Hello! I just wanted you to know that the tags for Trigun have not really slowed down much AT ALL since like February. So lets keep the fun going! Lets have a little competition!
Pick a character from the franchise - Any character, any version of Trigun - and design a poster just for them. It can be any style, any inspiration. If you want it to look like a movie poster, do it, if you want it to look like a political poster, go for it! A pin up? Well, just keep it SFW ok? ;)
We will vote for the winners via public polls on tumblr
The winner will get their poster BLAZED for ten bucks because... that's all I can afford ^^;;;
RULES:
The character must be from the Trigun franchise. Multiple characters may be shown, but it should be clearly a centric piece to just one character. You may also have text on the image.
No full nudity, no sex.
No "making out" characters. I know it seems dumb to limit this, but the idea is the poster is promoting a character, not a ship.
No photo manipulation, this must be your own artwork. No AI generation, I know we can't really police this but I'm asking for you to cooperate, because this is about promoting your artistic abilities, even the prize is meant to promote your own work, and be seen.
Entries must be a poster design. Rectangular, square, maybe even triangular banner shapes are allowed. Its ok to be a little different but it should be clear it's a poster.
Entries will need to be posted to tumblr and tagged:
#Trigun Poster Contest
Entries will need to be posted to your tumblr by September 15 at 11PM the latest.
I will try to start polling entries right away after that.
LOVE AND PEACE!
Okay, so I cheated a tiny bit. Its technically about @aidakhar 's dad!Knives au. But how can I resist Knives being a doting father?
"Azrael, that's the third Toothbrush this month." Knives frowned as he looked at the small disgruntled boy who presented him with yet another mangled toothbrush.
"My teeth are just too sharp, Papa." Azrael moped.
"I see that. I'll have to talk to Dr. Conrad about this…" Knives mused to himself, as he comforted his son, "For now, why don't we just keep doing our best until we can figure something out, okay? It's not very efficient as far as the lifespans of toothbrushes go, but it'll keep your teeth clean in the meantime."
"Fine." Azrael huffed as he stalked off, going to his room. Knives was frustrated as well. It was important to maintain oral cleanliness. How was his child supposed to do so when his teeth were ripping through each toothbrush at such a rapid pace? He pondered these things as he too stalked down the hall towards Dr. Conrad's lab.
"Ah, Master Knives. What brings you around this time?" Conrad asked, sitting at his desk, a beaker of coffee still steaming close by.
"Azrael just gave me his third decimated toothbrush this month. I need something different than this archaic stick." Knives complained to Conrad.
"Well, the evolution of the toothbrush hasn't really changed since the Earth's 1800's… they even used them in the ancient Egyptian era. It's one of those "If it's not broke, don't fix it" kinds of things." Conrad explained.
"Then we have to make something those stupid humans couldn't." Knives snidely replied.
"Of course, Sir. When I was a child back on Earth, they did have these chewable toothbrushes, but I fear the boy will just chew through them."
"What were they made of? Could we improve upon whatever material they used? Make them reusable, or recyclable?"
"They were just silicone, but, again, I fear he would just rip through Silicone like a shark eating a seal." Conrad lamented, taking a sip from his beaker of coffee, "I could improve it to withstand the psi of his bite strength strength. I can probably project 170 psi at the most, so I can make a silicone that withstands up to 200… Can you bring The Boy in to run some tests? He might enjoy it, since he'll get to bite stuff." Conrad began to write calculations and equations down on a piece of paper before asking the question.
"Yeah, I can bring him around, but… in the morning. He needs his sleep." Knives said, noting the time. Conrad chuckled, realizing what a doting father his fearsome boss had become. It made Conrad miss the daughter he'd wronged so long ago as he sipped his coffee once more.
"Of course, Sir. That will give me time to experiment with the silicone before I can run my tests for the prototype. This is a welcome distraction. I was beginning to feel burnt out on my previous experiments." Conrad shrugged.
"Wonderful. I know you won't disappoint us, Doctor. I shall return with Azrael in the morning." Knives nodded before leaving Conrad to his work.
***
When Knives and Azrael returned the next morning, Conrad was still hard at work.
"What is your progress, Doctor?" Knives asked as He reminded Azrael to be mindful of his surroundings, as not to collide with anything within the lab.
"Ah, Master Knives. You're just in time. I just finished with the silicone that can withstand 200 psi. I still want an average bite test from him. I may be able to adjust the longevity of the silicone, and we'll be able to recycle them, combine them together to make new ones. Silicone is surprisingly easy to make on this planet, since silicone is made from sillica particles in sand. We live on a planet covered in the stuff!" Conrad said triumphantly, pulling a lever for dramatic affect as a compression machine squished a rubbery piece of silicone. A little machine attached to it beeped, calculating the integrity of the small marble, and the he lifted the lever, to show the marble still intact. Conrad took the marble to a nearby sink, washing it thoroughly, before handing it to Azrael.
"Here, chew on this for me. Please do not swallow it." Conrad instructed. Azrael paused before taking the little marble from Conrad's hand, and popping it into his mouth. He munched on it, his eyes brightening a little at the bouncy resistance the marble gave.
"Should I try to rip it apart with my teeth?" Azrael asked as he chewed.
"Give it your best shot, kid." Conrad nodded, giving Azrael permission to destroy his prototype in the name of science. After a minute or two, Azrael spit the ball back into Conrad's gloved hand. Conrad gave the silicone ball study under the microscope, investigating the small tears made by Azrael's teeth.
"Was it hard to chew on, Azrael?" Conrad asked as he gazed into the microscope.
"Not really. It was like… chewing gum." Azrael explained. Conrad nodded, standing from the microscope.
"Okay. I figured Independants had a harder bite force than humans, but I didn't expect harder than 200 psi, damn. Good thing Silicone can go up to 1,500 psi when using the right formula." Conrad sighed. "My goal is to create a silicone that won't tear under his bite force, but is still easy to chew on." Conrad explained. He picked up a small device that had a rubber mouthpiece attached. After sterilizing the piece, he asked Azrael to place it in his mouth, and bite down as hard as he could. Conrad frowned at the results.
"Hm, 220. Yep, gotta make a stronger silicone. Alright, I should have the prototype ready by tomorrow morning." Conrad concluded, writing some notes. Knives and Azrael went about their day as normal.
***
"Okay, I think I've got it this time. Try this one." Conrad handed Azrael a small ball with little silicone bristles, sterilized of course. The middle was hollow for toothpaste to fit inside. Azrael chewed on the ball, purposefully trying to mangle it with his teeth. After a few minutes, he spit the ball out as before, and after a study by Conrad, the item was complete.
"Yeah, this new chewable toothbrush should last you two months, or about sixty teeth cleanings. I'll have more made, and ready to go within the week. They're easy to recycle, so I'll be able to make a sustainable stock of them." Conrad was nearly giddy at his success, "I recommend using this with supervision due to the potential choking hazard, but that's just a precaution." He noted to Knives, from one father to another.
"I'll be sure to do so. We can brush our teeth together, then." Knives nodded, internally excited to have a new style of cleaning for his son.
I'm super excited for this list. I'm going to do my best to work a head and release these on a schedule, since these shorter blurbs ✨Theoretically ✨ take me an hour or two to make.
I'm also doing Tri-tember this year as well, but some prompts overlap. So the ones that overlap with vashtember, I won't post a second fic for (a little less on my self imposed work load.)
1. THE STAMPEDE
"There he is! It's Vash the Stampede!" One of the townsfolk hollered to his buddies as Vash was once more chased through town for his bounty. Vash ducked into an alleyway, which was narrow enough for him to climb up it, and make his escape by running across the rooftops. Hearing the gunshots begin to fade in the distance, he looped back around to the Inn to grab his bag, and then finally escaped the town. He didn't quit running, though, not until the town was just a speck on the horizon.
Finally resting at the base of a nearby rock formation, Vash let out a sigh as he relaxed, the evening suns setting behind him, allowing him some shade.
"Vash… The Stampede…" He spoke aloud to no one, musing over the title he'd been given. The Humanoid Typhoon…
It was almost comical… How much he hated that name.
It was always Stampede this, or Stampede that… Everyone loved Vash, he knew that much… he was kind, good with kids, a great time out drinking, and he'd used his skills to save so many people… so many plants… but…
Everybody hates The Stampede… The Sixty Billion Double Dollar Man… Wanted… Dead or Alive… Dessimator of Cities, The world's first person deemed an Act of God… These were all just… things, he was to people…
Vash dug out a can of food he hadn't eaten on his last journey between towns, and ate it cold, too tired to start a fire.
What happened to the days when he was The son of Rem Saverem? He wondered as he munched. He knew exactly what had happened of course… but he wanted nothing more for those days to return…
He sighed not wanting to visit those bittersweet memories again.
"...Rem…" he murmured to himself as he gave thought to his mother's surname, Saverem. There had been a time when he used to introduce himself as Vash Saverem. A handful of years when using a surname actually mattered. In the early years of No Man's Land, family names were simply unnecessary unless there were two Johns, for example. There was never another Vash. In the decades after, Vash had used his surname with those he met once people of No Man's Land could even minorly relax and begin establishing family lines again. It wasn't until his first Oopsie-Daisies that he began using the beloved surname less, and just became Vash.
Vash chuckled a bit, shaking his head. Rem would probably hate to see her name dragged through the dirt like that… he'd known early on that he could no longer use the beloved surname.
It was set in stone altogether when people began calling him things like, The Stampede, or The Humanoid Typhoon. He'd thought it was a dumb name. After a while, though… he came to the conclusion that it didn't really matter what he thought of the name. It was his role to play on this desert planet now. He was meant to be the villain to take the blame for all of the turmoil on this desert planet. It was rather fitting since he was mostly to blame for The Fall. If they needed someone to blame, a scapegoat for their problems caused by their own recklessness… why not have it be him?
It wasn't as if he never got to take a break from being The Stampede… when he was with Wolfwood, he was just Vash. It was charming when Milly called him Mr. Vash. Meryl… Well, someday, maybe he will just be Vash to her… When he was alone, he was Vash Saverem.
Additionally, he'd also been Eriks. Vash gave a gentle smile at the life he'd lead as Eriks, just some dude in a small town. That was where he felt he was able to truly be himself. People didn't judge him for being The Stampede in that little town… then again they didn't know. They never found out. They just saw some dopey guy with a heart of gold, who helped around the town anywhere he could, and took care of Grandma and Lina. In his heart, Vash knew that's who he truly was. The persona he'd created as Eriks was who he truly was once you threw away his haunted past, and plant biology. That's who he truly was.
Vash remembered one day when Wolfwood had asked him what his real name was. Wolfwood had always been curious about Vash, as well as Knives. Two independent plants using a planet for Knives' self imposed war.
"As far as I'm concerned, My name… Is Irrelevant." He'd said, and at the time, he meant it. What his name was, whether it be Saverem, Eriks, or The Stampede, it didn't change anything about the experiences Vash and Nicholas had together. He meant it.
But that hadn't stopped him from whispering it one night, a few nights later. Wolfwood was lying near him, using the wrapped up Punisher as a pillow, his back to Vash. He knew Wolfwood was a light sleeper. He knew he would hear him.
"Vash… Saverem." He whispered once, and only once.
Maybe someday, Vash thought, when the desert hellscape was a safe place, and he no longer had to be Vash The Stampede, he could be Vash Saverem once more… Maybe he could shake things up and become Eriks Saverem. He didn't know what the future had in store for him… his ticket to the future would always be blank. What he did know, is that until he could once more make the Saverem name a proud one, he would be:
A request for my friend as there is not enough Wolfwood content? I was thinking maybe something where Wolfwood is an angel (a fallen one maybe?), and the reader is a demon? The forbidden love type deal? Not sure how they met, but would be nice to read something with a little fluff and angst
A/N: it gives Good Omens vibes ✨ love me a forbidden love trope! Also, this has a TriMax spoiler, as it uses TriMax continuity! (Not that it changed too much???) Just a warning!
Til the End of The Universe, I Guess
They've been a pain in my ass since The Fall. Not the one to Gunsmoke, but that one too I guess. The Fall that I mean is my fall from grace. I remember it almost too well. I remember the burning. It didn't matter that I was falling at thrice the average velocity, I was on fire.
My wings. The beautiful pearly wings I had once taken so much pride in, ones which I often received compliments on, crackled, popped and sizzled, turning a deep charcoal, nearly Raven black. The heat was so unbearable that I nearly passed out four times. The action itself maybe took a minute, but felt like a thousand years. I don't remember the impact.
When I awoke, I was in the bed of a small cottage. At my bedside tending to my wounds, was a demon of all things. I hated myself for gawking at the beauty they held, despite once being my immortal enemy on principle.
To the trained eye, you could tell their skin was a redder shade just off of that of a humans, a set of horns, also unable to be witnessed by humans, protruded from the back of their head, curving up over their head. The horns stopped just above their eyebrows, threatening to stab their eyes if they didn't cut off the ends of their horns. The ends were flat, and unsharpened. I had met a few demons in my day, but none so undemon-looking, and none so beautiful.
"Oh, you're awake." They spoke gently, as not to spook me, "Can you move? Flip over and I'll get your back." They turned to me revealing a goopy mixture in a small wooden bowl.
"What is that?" My voice, now hoarse, growled at them.
"A mixture of Divine water and Lily of the Desert." It was then I noticed they were wearing thick arm and hand coverings. Such a holy mixture would surely burn my newly acquired caretaker, yet they were still willing to tend to my wounds.
"I got most of your visible form while you were asleep, but I was unable to start on your wings. Can you move well? Can you lay on your stomach?" They asked. Noting I could move with only a minimal ache in my newly human body, I flipped over into my stomach, propping myself up with the pillow that was once under my head.
"So… What's your name, Little Angel?" They asked as I felt the mixture being pressed to my butchered wings.
"I guess in the human's language it would be- tch! Ow!" I spat at a tender spot, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood."
"Quite the fancy name, Mr. Wolfwood." Their giggle sounded like the chimes of clashing metal before they spoke their own name to me.
"Ah, Sunspot." I mused.
"Excuse me?"
"Sunspot. I'm really bad with names, so I give nicknames to remember people by." A lie of course. It was because it would hurt more when they became a target in God's efforts to continue my suffering. If I don't invoke their real name, they can't be targeted.
-
After my wounds healed, Sunspot and I would pal around for a century or two. Thankfully my human vessel didn't age at all, meant to prolong my suffering, yet I was grateful to have such a healthy and nimble body. We would often move from place to place like the gypsies, and often pose as a couple.
We would spend our nights talking about our memories until I could no longer remain conscious. They would often give the food they posed to eat to those who could not afford food. Despite their human appearance, their visage was merely a façade. They could reveal their horns and other devilish traits at will. Meanwhile my wings could only be seen by those with gifted sight, like small children, or those bothered by spirits.
When I began to forget things. Little things, like that chateau we called home in Brazil, or the mountain we climbed in the Alps, I began to keep a diary of all I could remember. I filled book after book with whatever language I wanted, often mixing them together as I found a word that best fit every intention.
Good luck to anyone who finds it though. Unless they know every language from Spanish to Cuneiform, there's no telling how long it would take them to crack the inconsistent and nonexistent code. I fear that even I may forget how to read my own diaries someday.
-
We decided to leave Europe to check out the North American continent, particularly this new little colony of New England. We explored the lands that had yet to be bought by these colonizers, and interacted with the local animals and the native people.
One of the tribe's medicine men was very interested in my relationship with Sunspot. He saw me as a Raven Spirit, and Sunspot as one of the creation deities. I insisted that we weren't in a romantic relationship, nor anything to be worshiped, but he seemed to see us differently.
"Your fates are intertwined so strongly, It will never break." He also suggested that we leave this continent, because those settlers would be causing nothing but trouble, just like the Spaniards in the south. We heeded his words and went back to Brazil for quite some time.
It was the early 1930's when we found ourselves up in southern Canada. We had a little place near Niagara Falls, able to cross the border into the United States as we pleased.
-
I remember a conversation we once had in the early 1990's as our legs were tangled up on the couch one night while the TV played something to fill the void.
"So… I've known you for a while now, and I gotta ask. Why are you on Earth? Why haven't you gone back to hell, Sunspot?" I asked them. It was a question that had always been on my mind. They always seemed content by my side, and never left this realm, as far as I was ever aware.
"Ah… well, they kicked me out of hell. I… I tried to have people's judgements revisited after they had repented. But… I was told that once you're in hell, you have to stay there. You don't get to move on to reincarnation or get a second chance. "The God of second chances, huh? What a bogus line o' lingo." They said, obviously hanging around their human friends too much,
"I tried to help those seeking repentance no matter what layer I was moved to. Eventually, I was barred from my home. Even the hottest of places up here are too cold. I spent a week inside the magma of a volcano, and only ended up with igneous rocks formed in places I don't wanna talk about." They shook their head, hating the memory,
"That's why I always wear clothes as if I'm freezing, because I am." They said lifting the baggy sleeves of their thick sweater they wore.
"Ah, so that's why you insist on constantly sharing body heat." I smirked, I moved to lay on top of them, I heard them give a light giggle as they pet my wings with one hand, and my hair with the other.
-
On a vacation to Greece, where the Pantheon we hailed from feared to tread, we sat on a beach shoreline, as the moon began to cross in front of the sun.
"I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together." I found myself getting sentimental, "I think there's no one else I'd rather spend the rest of my damnation with."
"Aw, Nicky, you're just saying that." They rolled their eyes.
"No, I mean it." I said, cradling their face, and softly speaking their name. Something I never said, "I wanna spend the rest of eternity with you. I love you." My eyes begged for them to feel the same way. Sunspot could see it.
"I love you too, Nicholas. I always feel warmer by your side." They smiled, leaning in for our first kiss as the moon covered the sun, darkening the sky. The Gods could not see us here. This short moment of bliss was ours and ours alone.
-
We had spent nearly a thousand years together. It was in the 2300's when we boarded the seed ships. On the ship we slept, our pods next to each other. But it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.
The familiar heat awoke me as my pod was falling. My pod was near the flaming exterior of the ship. I don't remember this impact either.
-
I awoke in a hospital bed. But Sunspot was not at my side this time. A nurse who still looked as banged up as me tended to my wounds. I asked where Sunspot was, asking them by name. They hadn't seen or heard of them.
It was a lonely first few years. I stumbled from colony to colony trying to find Sunspot. There was no way they died in the crash. They couldn't have. They could stand such hellish temperatures, the crash would have been nothing to them…. But what about the impact?
In my adventures, I found a pair of young boys out on their own. Twins with blonde hair and blue eyes. We shared a meal, and then departed the next morning. Just a simple case of: same place, same time coincidence. How wrong I was.
The next time I saw one of them, the Little Needle Noggin was chained up to a post, passed out from blood loss from apparently having his arm cut off. I brought him to the floating ship I had seen. They could care for him better than I ever could. Besides, I had to keep searching. They graciously accepted him, still wondering how I had gotten up there. I was relieved my wings still worked.
Along the way, I picked up this large cross shaped gun I called The Punisher. As I looked for Sunspot, I made cash as a mercenary. My gun was powerful, and my determination to find my lover was stronger.
I thought I had seen the last of Needle Noggin when one day, I saw him all grown up. I had made the mistake of thinking he would stay on the ship. Here he was roaming around once again. His eyes were sad as he walked.
But.. wait… that had been nearly fifty years since I took him to the floating ship. How did he still appear to be in his twenties? There had been something off about him and his brother. Where was that little shit, anyways? I let him be for the time being.
-
I had been walking for a hundred iles before passing out in the desert. I felt myself get pulled into a bus, and given water.
"Oh wow! Thank the Lord, I'm saved!" I played up my preacher persona I'd acquired over the years. And there he was again. That Needle Noggin boy, still a young man, yet another fifty years later he had to be well into his hundred and thirties by now. Just what was he?
"So, what's your name, stranger?" He asked.
"The name's Nicholas D Wolfwood! Preacher, Undertaker, at your service!" I smiled. His friends who sat next to him outed the Needle Noggin as Vash the Stampede. Hm, who would have thought? I made some jokes about taking the money for myself, but they had no merit to them.
-
I traveled with Vash for a while. He allowed me to take the time to see the beauty in this world, and the charm of its people I had been ignoring for the past hundred and thirty years.
-
A year passed by, and Vash and I sat in his room, drinks in hand. I had just found out he was a plant from an incident the day prior.
"I knew you weren't human. I just didn't know how." I said, taking a drink.
"And that goes the same for you, Wolfwood. I remember you. That night, that Knives and I had dinner with you. I still remember that."
"I'm much older than you, Needle Noggin. You don't wanna know what I am or what I'm doing here."
"That's not really fair, now is it?" Vash knocked back another shot. I rolled my eyes and told him. My fall, Sunspot, living on earth, falling to No Man's Land, and my eternal search for them.
"Don't tell anyone. I don't deserve to be worshiped, or adored as an Angel. I'm just as much a sinner as the rest of humanity is."
"You got to live on Earth though… that must have been super cool…" Vash slurred, lying his head on the table. He passed out shortly after, probably dreaming about what I told him. I took the last shot of the bottle we had left, and went to bed.
-
In a little town, we walked down the street, chatting away, when a person caught my eye. Someone who looked human to all of those around them, but I knew. I could see the little horns that curved over their head.
"Sunspot!" I yelled louder than anything I had ever yelled before, running to them. Their face turned to shock, a wide smile crept across their face that mirrored mine.
"Nicholas!" They ran to me, jumped into my arms, and I twirled them before setting them down again, tears falling down my face.
"Oh my God I thought I'd never find you!" I hugged them again to make sure this was real. They were really here, in my arms.
"I'm sorry that I ever stopped. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to feel like I had a home again."
"No, you're okay, you're here now. I didn't want to think you had died. I knew it couldn't be possible." I pressed many sultry kisses to their lips, whispering their name to them between each kiss, as I had longed to do for so long.
We must have looked like a mess in the streets, crying, and kissing as if we hadn't seen each other in over a century. But it was true. A hundred and thirty years apart felt worse than my burning wings, or any gunshot wound I had ever received.
We eventually regained ourselves, and made our way to their house, where they lived alone. They had never married, and spent their time painting places we had been to in our time together to cope. They had many paintings they often gave to friends, or to museums. They used a psuedo name of course.
"So, is this where we part, Wolfwood?" Vash asked, after he'd finished looking at all of the paintings.
"I'm not sure yet. I'd go anywhere, as long as Sunspot is there." I still held their hand. They smiled up to me, then to their paintings.
"I've been cooped up in this house for too long. I'm ready for an adventure. Why don't we travel for a bit, then we can return here so you can finally rest?" Sunspot gave a radiant smile, brighter than any sun in the galaxy.
"I'd be honored to have your help. Vash and I are cleaning up his own family life. We can teach his bratty older brother a lesson in what it truly means to fall from grace." I stroked their cheek, "You can finally rehabilitate the biggest sinner on all of Gunsmoke…"
"But you don't need rehabilitation, Belovéd." They gave a snarky smile.
"Holy Hell, I've missed you." I have a tired smile, absolutely flabbergasted at their audacity.
Reverse Isekai AU headcanons: Tesla! (And some Knives too I guess)
Quick refresh: TriMax Knives, Streamer, lives like a hermit in the little apartment suite above the garage. Vash and Wolfwood are from Tri98.
Since Knives has his successful career as a streamer, the dude is loaded. When he's not giving to charities, he often helps with the ever expanding family your house seems to be amassing.
One person he's extremely particular about finding is Tesla, once she arrives. That's right, bby, we found Tesla!
You and Wolfwood decided to do some charity work at a local orphanage, (He misses his kiddos from the orphanage a lot) and she was fighting off one of the workers there, insisting she needed to leave. When you stopped her, she introduced herself as Tesla, the worker insisting her name was something else.
Tesla has been found on the orphanage doorstep as an infant, but only 2 years ago. She had grown to age 12ish since then, and after about a year and a half, she regained her memories of being on the Seed ships.
It's technically unclear if this is TriMax Tesla, or TriStamp Tesla, but to Knives, he doesn't care about such details. This is his older(?) Sister, and he's gonna give her the best life possible, now that Tesla was adopted, and she lives in the house with y'all.
Once Tesla got her name changed from the one given to her by the orphanage to her real name, she decided on taking the name Tesla Millions Saverem, sharing the same middle and last name as Vash.
Tesla is quite the active kid. Appearing the age of 12, she quickly wanted to become a part of public school life.
She maintains a high GPA, she has a few close friends, she's a state tennis and basketball champion, and she's the student council president.
She does, however, have a hard time making friends considering a lot of kids want to befriend her to get closer to Knives, aka Imperium the streamer. Although Knives constantly states he's not a kid friendly channel, it doesn't stop unsupervised middle schoolers from watching his streams.
Although Livio (TriMax) tends to be the one to pick her up from school, on occasion, Knives' White 1959 Chevy Impala Sport Coupe, with sky blue pinstripes, will sit outside the school, waiting to pick up Tesla. Most kids are too intimidated by Knives' resting bitch face to actually approach him. Some kids will be able to muster out a "I like your car, Mr. Imperium!" To which he then gives his charming smile, and thanks them.
Surprisingly enough, Knives originally didn't want to even have a car, because they pollute the planet, and it only keeps the Earth in decline, but after Wolfwood was watching YouTube videos about classic muscle cars, he knew he had to get his hands on one.
Knives and Wolfwood spend time in the garage together, working on their car and motorcycle, usually insulting each other in alphabetical order. Things like, "Ya know, Spoons, you're an absolute asshole." "That's rich, coming from my brother's bitch." And down the alphabet they go.
